Fragments
by BlueSpiritFire1
Summary: How Lucrecia might have met the Remnants, and what happens to the bonds she forges with them after they vanish into the Lifestream. Yazoo's not in the character tags but he's here too!
1. Meetings

**Where's the tag for 'Remnants' when you want to mention K.L.Y. all collectively but they take up all the tag space in a 5-man cast? And I might as well have pulled the title from out of a hat.**

 **It has been a literal age since I wrote anything for FF7, let alone anything I actually finished. And I think the last thing I posted on here for it was some first person nonsense so many years ago. But this? This I like.**

 **This is also a very different and weird way of writing for me. Like the present-tense style. Not my normal thing unless I'm writing an outline.**

 **Also I apologise in advance for my excessive use of italics. I use it for emphasis, for thoughts AND for what I call _plot whispers_.**

 **The music kind of sets the mood/pace of the chapters, so look them up and just have them playing in the back while you read if you can.**

* * *

 **Name:** Fragments  
 **Song:** A. Krishna - Once Upon a Dream ETHEREAL REMIX

* * *

Remnants don't dream.

The first time Loz wakes up somewhere else, alone and without his brothers, he does what he does on instinct.

He cries.

He doesn't where he is. It's cold and dark. The walls around him are a pale grey, with vile, black, viscous fluid slowly oozing in thin strips from the ceiling that pool on the floor in slowly growing lumps, like wax. He's in a tunnel; on either side it stretches on endlessly into infinity, but there's a gentle curve to it as well. He knows this because the tunnel grows darker at the ends and he can see the walls lean out of view.

But that was before he started crying.

He wants Yazoo. He wants Kadaj. He'd even settle for Big Brother at this point.

"Oh!"

He hears the voice of a woman. He knows it doesn't make sense – there was nobody else in the tunnel with him. That's why he's crying at all.

"Don't cry, dear."

He wipes his eyes and looks up. She says what Yazoo says, but it makes him feel different.

The woman is standing in front of him. She's wearing a weird white dress with ruffles and no midriff, and a long matching bit of fabric loops around her arms.

Her hair is long and brown – warm brown, not dark like the dirt he knows he fell asleep on. Her eyes match. He doesn't know what expression she's looking at him with.

"I'm not crying!"

His protest makes her surprised. There are _clearly_ tears still streaming down his face, even as he rushes to stand up, to regain his modicum of dignity in front of this stranger. By this point, it's become an automatic response; Yazoo says not to cry and he tries not to, even when he _really, really wants to_.

"I didn't mean…" She stops, eating the words about to come out of her mouth.

He's standing up now, but he's slouched and upset and he doesn't want this strange lady. He wants his brothers.

"It's alright to cry, you know."

He scowls at her and shakes his head furiously.

She watches him. Her arms are together in front of her. She's not a threat. _She's safe._ He can't know this for sure, but it's an instinct.

"'daj says it's bad, and Yaz hates it."

"Who are they?"

"M-My brothers." He cries again. "I-I can't find them!"

He's crying so hard the tears are blurring his vision.

"It's alright." She speaks softly and there's a touch on his back. He blinks, trying to see properly again.

The lady is beside him. She's patting his back. It's a very ineffective attack. He's a little bit dumbfounded by it, in truth.

"What's your name?"

Pride bubbles in his chest. Nobody's asked him that yet. Nobody's _wanted_ to hear the name he gave himself when he and his brothers crawled out of the Northern Crater.

"Loz!"

Her smile grows. "Mine is Lucrecia."

Her hand settles on his shoulder, and he feels that the grip behind it is gentle – hardly a grip at all.

"Can you tell me what happened, before you found yourself here, Loz? Maybe that will help in finding your brothers."

He sniffs and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand again. He just notices that Dual Hound is missing. Even the Velvet Nightmare strapped to his thigh is gone.

He scowls at her. She leans back, wary.

"Who are you?" he growls.

"I just-"

" _Who_ are you!?" he shouts again, barreling through her timid response. She steps back now, holding her hands to her chest.

He stalks forward, low and tense.

"Loz, please, I haven't come here to hurt you." Her voice is shaking. She's scared. "I've been here alone for so long, I-" The words fail her and she steps back, shakes her head and ducks it low.

"I'm sorry!"

The world distends and twists around him. The woman is still backing away. She seems unaffected by the changes happening around her.

No sound passes his lips. The world collapses in on itself, crushes the view of the woman from his eyes before smothering all to a messy, paste-like black.

* * *

When Loz opens his eyes, it's to the feeling of a fist hitting his upper arm.

He fights the instinct to slam _his_ fist into the perpetrator once he hears the voice of his longer-haired brother.

"Gracious, I thought you'd _never_ stop twitching and sobbing."

Loz turns his head to see Yazoo folding his arms back across his chest and leaning his back against the tree.

 _The tree._

Loz sits up sharply, eyes wide. There is no tunnel, no black tar. _No woman._

"Where was I?" he blurts it out to be met with a derisive snort.

"Asleep. Where did you _think_ you were?" Yazoo's voice is always cool and unshakable, always measured, even when he makes jibes.

"No!" he insists instead of cowering back from the shadow of sarcasm – the most Yazoo can manage. Loz pulls his legs up under him and stands, kicking dirt up.

Yazoo watches with a very delicately growing frown. Loz's frenetic actions do not bode well for their third brother. Kadaj has trouble sleeping as is.

"There was a woman!" he shouts, distressed, taking steps away from their camp and spinning around.

"Loz, there is no-one but us."

"But I SAW her! We spoke!"

Yazoo's frown isn't one borne entirely of resentment or exasperation now.

"Alright then, brother. What did she look like? What did you speak about?" He asks not just to entertain his panicking sibling, but to learn information.

Loz's scowl only deepens.

"I don't remember."

Yazoo's eyes roll and he almost sighs.

' _What else should I expect?'_

"But she was warm!" Loz protests. "She was…" he tries to find the word but it's not there.

"Go back to sleep, Loz. You must have been seeing things."

Loz shakes his head. "I can't. I'll take watch."

Yazoo shrugs daintily and settles his back against the tree. His eyes shut seamlessly, and the last thought to cross his mind is _'Thank Gaia Kadaj didn't wake up.'_

* * *

Three days pass.

And then Yazoo is ripped into a strange place with white walls and black slime.

Velvet Nightmare is gone, he notes immediately.

His gaze is sharp and calculating. He knows he fell asleep. He knows no-one has touched him, or drugged him or kidnapped him.

He surveys the area.

And he sees a figure in white, sitting on the floor some way off.

His steps are silent, and even though he's naturally light-footed he's never made _absolutely zero sound._ Even his leathers make no noise.

"Where is this place?"

The figure jumps. They turn around before setting eyes on him. Brown, sad eyes.

It's a woman. She gets to her feet and faces him completely.

"I-I'm sorry."

He doesn't frown. He doesn't care enough to. He also doesn't care to repeat himself for this waif.

She seems to realise this.

"I don't know, exactly. I've been here for a very long time, though."

He turns dismissively. She is of no use.

"Wait, please!" He notices, with a barely suppressed flinch, that her footsteps make no sound either.

His only warning is the feather light touch that brushes his arm.

He spins immediately and slaps her hand away.

She pulls it back at once.

"I'm sorry." Her words are genuine, but meaningless.

"I just…You look like him."

Tears gather in her eyes, and he thinks of Loz. Something tells him that a woman crying will give him the same strength of headache twice as fast.

"Who could I possibly look like?"

He asks, if only to distract her from the possibility of tears.

 _The words that come out of her mouth are not the ones she first thought._

"Another man with silver hair and green eyes."

Yazoo is almost humoured.

Until he remembers Loz's outburst a few nights ago.

"Did you ask him his name?"

She nods, and she smiles. "He said his name was Loz. He was so dreadfully sad." Her eyes lift. "Could it…are you…'daj? Or Yaz?"

He freezes.

She steps back.

" _Who are you?_ "

There's fear in her eyes now.

"M-My name is Lucrecia-"

" _What_ _are you!?_ " he hisses. Yazoo doesn't shout or growl.

"I'm just- I don't know!" she blurts. Tears are falling now. "I don't know! I don't know!"

She drops to her knees and curls up, putting her hands up over her head.

Yazoo's ire quells, though his suspicion is still rampant.

"Don't cry, Lucrecia."

The words are automatic. He knows her name, it begins with an L and she's crying.

She doesn't stop as easily as Loz, and she keeps whimpering, saying 'I'm sorry.' Over and over.

 _He_ won't apologise though.

Yazoo rolls his eyes. He thinks of leaving her there, but realises her experience is better put to use.

"How do I leave?"

She looks up slowly, blinks and frowns slightly in apparent confusion.

"You…don't _leave_."

"Loz did."

"I don't know how he did though."

Yazoo purses his lips, dissatisfied

"What…was he doing?" She asks, attempting to quell him.

"He was _sleeping_. So was I."

Her eyes widen, and relief washes over her.

"Oh! You must be dreaming, then!" She looks down at the floor, mumbling to herself.

Yazoo is simply puzzled by the explanation.

"Why would I aspire for _this?_ "

She stops talking to herself and looks at him again, then stands.

"Dreaming…You don't understand what that means?"

"To reach for something, to have a goal." His answer is prompt and smooth, confident.

Lucrecia's head tilts. Her tears have stopped, though the marks remain.

"That's one meaning, true. But _to dream_ is what happens to the body when you sleep. It's often how the brain interprets things that have happened while awake. In this case, however…"

"In this case neither I nor my brother know you, or this place."

Yazoo purses his lips.

"So, I am here until I wake." It's a statement. She nods.

"I…still don't know your name."

He slides a narrowed eye to her, weighing the risks, sizing her up.

"Yazoo."

Her face lights up. "I see. So… 'daj' is a nickname for your third brother?"

"It's _Loz's_ nickname for Kadaj, yes."

Her stare is unnervingly secure on him. He doesn't sense any malice or ill-will within it though.

"Yazoo," she begins, and her voice is soft and timid, and for once he doesn't want to _break_ it. "Would you please…stay and talk to me? Just until you wake."

'No' is on the tip of his tongue.

Until he realises he can't _go_ anywhere.

"Fine."

* * *

When he wakes, the dream is forgotten. Kadaj has woken him urgently and called for their action.

But it bothers him for the rest of the day that he can't seem to remember something important.

* * *

It takes two days more days for Loz to dream.

When he arises in the bland tunnel, he isn't scared of it this time. He knows his brothers won't be there. He knows they won't believe him either, when he returns to their side.

He decides not to say anything when he does.

Loz also decides that _he will not cry_ this time. No matter what.

He wonders if the strange lady is still here.

His steps are strong and confident as he sets off down the hall, ignoring the ooze that drips around him. There's a little bit more than there was last time, the puddles bigger.

He knows he's been walking for some time. He doesn't know how far he's travelled. There is no fatigue in his limbs, no sense of time.

But there _is_ a pressure building on his skull.

At first it's almost nothing, a negligible nagging. But the further he goes, the worse it grows, until it feels like his face is being ground into dirt under someone's boot.

Loz is strong – the strongest. But he cannot withstand the unseen assault on his head. He cannot keep his resolve not to cry. He buckles to his knees and hunches over himself, cradling his head in pain.

Loz wants to speak, to cry for his brothers. But it hurts too much. Like something is screeching into his head.

"Loz? Loz!"

The voice is a woman's. He knows it but he can't focus.

The touch of delicate hands on his shoulders sends a warm tingle rolling over his body. The pain soothes just enough for him to look up, into brown eyes.

"You…" He's too sore to speak more. Lucrecia kneels before him.

"It's alright. I'm not here to hurt you."

He makes a noise – a weak mumble.

"What's wrong, Loz? Why are you crying?" she asks softly.

"Hurts." He whimpers.

"Where?"

"M'head." He knows it's stupid to tell someone your most vulnerable spot when you're weak _, but Lucrecia is warm._

Fingers brush through his hair, settle on his forehead, delicately probe for wounds.

He sighs.

"You don't look injured, and you don't have a fever…"

"Inside." He mumbles now. Her touch makes the pain fade, but it's still dreadful.

Lucrecia looks at him, sorrow on her face. He's a juxtaposition in human form. She gathers the hem of her scarf and wipes his eyes with the soft, barely-there fabric. His eyes are sad and confused when he opens them at her touch.

"You have a headache, then. It'll be alright. You just have to rest."

Loz refutes with a feeble head shake.

"Got worse when I came down here. But…you make it better."

Lucrecia's eyes widen at his words. He thinks they look oddly glossy, like marbles.

She makes herself smile. "Then I'm glad to help."

Loz doubles over with a whimper. It's like he was just kicked in the head. Lucrecia is with him, petting his hair slowly, muttering to him, soothing the pain that threatens to split his skull in half. He lets out a small, sad warble and leans toward her.

Lucrecia's instincts move her before she can question herself.

 _She doesn't deserve to-_

She pulls the large man into a hug, his forehead pressing against her shoulder.

"Easy now. It will pass. I'm here. I've got you, baby."

He doesn't really hear her words, but he knows that she makes the pain numb into a dull throb.

Lucrecia's glad he can't see the tears falling down her face.

* * *

Yazoo is scowling when he forces himself to sleep on the twelfth day of their existence.

He doesn't know if waking up in the 'dream' tunnel makes his mood better or worse.

"Hello, Yazoo."

Lucrecia's there to meet him. She's standing this time.

"I thought _dreams_ were meant to change."

She shrugs. "I think this is less a dream, and more a chance for us to talk. Have you dreamt of anything else?"

Yazoo looks away dismissively, but _he_ knows the answer is no.

His lack of verbal response doesn't bother her. "Tell me how you've been, Yazoo."

"Why?"

"I like hearing about you and your brothers."

"Why don't you ask _Loz_ then?"

"Loz cries whenever he's here. He doesn't like being alone."

"And you coddle him."

She shrugs helplessly. "Guilty as charged. But…I could never just leave him to cry."

Yazoo glances at her out of the corner of his eye. Her head is lowered, a smile of melancholy on her features.

"I suppose there isn't anything better to do."

* * *

Lucrecia doesn't know _how_ she can tell when one of the boys slips into the in-between world, as she's come to think of it. She just feels a tug, follows it and finds herself there at their side.

She wonders if Hojo's 'Reunion Theory' might have some credence after all. She wonders if the residual Jenova Cells in her body are reacting to the ones _so obviously_ in theirs.

 _Or could it be that their visual similarities to her son are more than just cosmetic?_

She's learned from Yazoo that they've only been _alive_ for a little under two weeks. It speaks to her that something has tampered them into being.

She feels the tug. She goes with it.

She blinks and stares.

It's neither one of her boys.

This one has mid-length hair _and are those flared leather pants?_

"Kadaj."

He spins to face her. She can feel the sensation of her heart, thumping.

 _His eyes are so cold and sharp, they should be lit with fire and the sounds of a burning town._

His expression softens and she wonders why until-

"Mother?"

Pain. A knot. _An ancient ache in her chest_.

"Mother…it is you, isn't it?!"

How can she say no? How can she – in good faith – deny him when he looks too much like her son to be coincidence?

"Mother, I-I've been looking for you. Just like you told me!"

Her gut twists, heart aching.

 _Nothing's changed._

He steps toward her, timid, but daring to be hopeful of praise.

She steps back.

 _Another boy. Another one misguided and twisted by that parasitic-_

"Why…?"

His face morphs into panic and hurt.

"Are you angry at me? Mother, have I done something wrong? Please, tell me!"

Lucrecia swallows the skin-crawling feeling.

"No. No Kadaj, you haven't done anything wrong."

"Then why do you shun me?" He scowls, eyes narrowing, cat's eye pupils slimming.

"It's because I'm not _him_ , isn't it."

Lucrecia inhales. It catches in her throat.

"Because I'm not _Sephiroth!_ "

The name stabs at her heart like a knife.

She doesn't know how he knows that name, but somehow it doesn't surprise her.

"Why is he so special? What has he ever done for you!?" Kadaj shouts.

Lucrecia finds her voice has stopped working. It won't tell him that Sephiroth has never done _anything_ for her, but he is her son so how could she not love him above all else?

"I…I have done everything you asked! I have never asked questions of you! I live to carry out your will. So _why_ do you make us work toward bringing _him_ back!? He failed you! Let _me_ do what you need!"

Lucrecia feels sick. She hasn't felt like throwing up so strongly since she was pregnant.

Bring him back. They want to bring him back. They want to drag his corpse out of its already fragile rest, and stir his mind into nightmarish action once more.

 _She can't know it's already_ _ **far**_ _too late to worry about that._

Kadaj's face scrunches into anger.

"We love you, Mother. Why don't you love _us_?"

Lucrecia doesn't feel the tears fall from her face.

"I'm sorry."

The words are automatic.

* * *

 **Two more chapters for this!**

 **It's hard for me to write Kadaj, and Yazoo really. Tell me what you guys think!**

 **Also I get that this whole...dreamscape thingy is really vague - I tried to ground it more and iron out the details but the core idea was just...Lucrecia meeting the Remnants, and it grew from there, so it's a bit all over the place.**


	2. Connection

**Thank you for the reviews! They really make my day!** **Here's the next chapter! It's more Sephiroth's POV from here on out.  
**

* * *

 **Song:** Unlike Pluto - Villain of My Own Story

* * *

His contact with the puppet is sparse. The Remnant doesn't need much of a push to get going. It should disconcert him. Several years ago, it might've.

But it doesn't matter to him now. _He needs a body_. The remaining piece of Jenova will provide him with that. The other two follow where the third leads and that is good enough.

He finds it so _easy_ to manipulate them – _himself –_ to do his bidding when in the guise of a mother. It's almost repulsive.

They've given themselves names. He had briefly contemplated telling them not to, to remain as indistinct as possible. He concluded that in the end, it wouldn't matter.

So, when he reaches out to the third, the 'youngest', _Kadaj_ , to give him a prompt for the first time in three days, he's confused to be met with an _apology_. More than that, an apology for questioning _dear Mother_.

The alarm bells ring. Not because he's threatened, but because _something else_ has evidently been getting to his puppets. And it's something he has had no prior knowledge of.

Considering how _much_ knowledge he has access to, _that_ is perplexing.

He considers the possibility that Jenova is exercising what little will it may have left.

It cowers under his scrutiny.

 _If not Jenova, then who?_

* * *

It's difficult to actively watch the Remnants without alerting Kadaj of 'Mother's' presence. It's difficult to probe into the minds of the other two without them crumpling under the weight of his will.

Still, he devotes time to watching them, lingering over the three parts of himself that walk among the living.

Night falls. They take turns to rest.

Kadaj is on first watch. He's inherited his progenitor's insomnia.

It doesn't take long for something _internal_ to pull his attention from the three.

He's felt it before – a tug. Very faint, fleeting and easily ignored.

But tonight he is determined to pay attention to everything.

The tug takes him away from the Remnants, and to the place he thinks of as the domain of his will. A pocket that exists separate to the Lifestream that rejects him _so often._ Whether the Planet made it as a containment cell, or it's formed alongside the neighbouring Lifestream thanks to Jenova's initial, ancient contamination - _almost like a cancer_ \- he doesn't know for sure. He does know that it is his kingdom; a place for him to oversee his machinations upon the Planet and its inhabitants.

 _A place for him to brood and stew when things go wrong._

It's a dreadfully _dull_ thing but he doesn't care to change it. After all, he never spends time here unless he schemes.

 _Too busy spreading Geostigma to stop right now._

Still, in this place he finds he can simply will himself a pseudo-physical form, which is a plus. It never bothers him that he seems to emerge from the black tar-like substance that is always pooling. The floor is completely covered in the black muck in some places, old goo hardening over like asphalt.

He notices there's more of it now than when he last visited.

This time he remains 'immaterial'. He sifts through the expanse, following the pull like a fish on a line.

He stops, jarringly,

After the amount of time he's spent as nothing more than a floating consciousness, he has quite the grasp on how to control himself.

But the sensation that engulfs him is enough to make him revert to the base _need_ of a 'physical' form. It's instantaneous and unpleasant, to be feeling the memory of a face and limbs and clothes when he is unprepared.

But the feeling of _arms_ wrapped around his shoulders is worse.

He staggers. He shivers. A noise of disgust passes his lips.

" _Does it hurt again?"_

He flinches at the voice in his ears. It's distant, even though he feels it right there beside him.

" _Mhm."_

His eyes narrow.

" _Does it help?"_

" _Yeah. Thanks. Wasn't like this before. M'sorry."_

Fingers comb through his hair.

" _It's alright. I'll stay with you, Loz."_

His teeth flash in a nasty, quiet snarl.

He feels a hand rub his back. He's seen the motion in the past. An act of comfort.

He shakes it off, though the feeling of the hand does not move.

Who has infiltrated his kingdom? Who is using _his_ space without his knowledge, and _how?_

He resolves to stay and wait and learn.

* * *

The feeling of being cradled vanishes not long into his vigil.

He's unsettlingly cold now.

He does not acknowledge it.

" _Hello, Yazoo."_

" _Hm. I'm still waiting for something different. You made out that dreams were interesting."_

" _I'm sorry."_

" _Stop that."_

" _I-"_

" _If you say that dreadful phrase one more time, I'm going to pull your hair - and_ _ **I**_ _won't even be a bit sorry."_

" _I…Yes, I really do have a habit of apologising for everything."_

" _Well, you're already leaps and bounds ahead of Loz. He doesn't even acknowledge that he cries at the drop of a hat."_

Satisfaction not his own blooms in his chest.

" _I can see it on your face, you know. You really should try better to conceal your emotions."_

" _Do I really need to hide them from you, or your brothers?"_

A long pause is followed, eventually, by a volley of information and recounting the last two days.

The woman is silent, but he can almost feel her smiling at him, nodding, engrossed in the words he feels are coming from his mouth.

The time passes much more quickly now. Yazoo is basking in the attention, talking to his heart's content.

Yazoo vanishes just as abruptly as Loz did, though for him it is mid-sentence.

He remains seated, mulling over the new information his second Remnant has unintentionally imparted.

He supposes it makes some sort of sense that the Remnants' consciousness' should return to his domain when they dream.

But there are still no answers for the woman.

* * *

Kadaj's arrival is so abrupt that he jolts upright in his seat. He hadn't really expected the third to show up at all.

" _Mother…"_

" _Hello…Kadaj."_

So, his guess is correct. She _is_ the one Kadaj thought was 'Mother'.

They do not gel, like the previous Remnants. Kadaj is tense. He's angry. She's not making conversation.

 _Interesting._

" _Are you still angry with me?"_

" _Oh…Kadaj, I've never been angry with you."_ She pleads.

" _I know…you told me I was forgiven. But…"_

He can feel the swirling mess of negative emotions in the Remnant.

"… _Kadaj, you're upset. I know you're upset. It's alright. You can tell me."_

His own jaw is relaxed, but he can feel teeth scraping against each other.

" _I still don't understand…why you want him."_

He almost scoffs. Jealous little Remnant.

"… _I can't answer that."_

" _Why?! I'm loyal to you! Why don't you trust me!?"_

" _Kadaj…I'm sorry. I just can't tell you. You can be angry at me. You can shout and scream if it makes you feel better. I deserve it."_

" _It's not about what_ _ **I**_ _want, Mother! That's never been the case! Why won't you help me understand!?"_

True to her words, she doesn't give him any answers. She cannot, after all.

He finds it interesting that the interloper is not actively encouraging the 'Mother' myth. At least, not with the one who clings most fiercely to it. Though she doesn't outright deny it either. What a puzzle.

Kadaj is still shouting, still asking. His voice is cracking, desperate for closure; for validation.

She apologises. All she can do is apologise and _cry_ and it's infuriating.

His head snaps up suddenly. His palm stings. Foreign horror floods him like a cold sweat.

" _M-Mother, I-I'm sorry! Mother, I didn't mean to!"_

He stares at his hand as the words bounce around in his ears.

 _Was it the Remnant, or was it him?_

Kadaj is on his hands and knees. He's begging forgiveness of the imposter.

He wonders if he should finally crash the party and take the place of the 'real' Mother.

Instead, he freezes. Warm hands hold his face, cupping his cheeks.

" _Now…I understand."_

He finds himself looking up into sad, tearful brown eyes. A thumb brushes his face softly.

" _I'm sorry. I left you alone for so long. That is my greatest sin."_

The breath is stolen from his lungs as the feeling of a kiss presses to his forehead.

" _I love you. I truly do."_

She whispers against the Remnant's skin and he can feel it on his own.

" _Even if it's too late to say any of this, you need to hear it. You…part of you needs to know."_

"I don't…"

" _I love you. I forgive you. But most of all, I am so sorry for the things I never did for you."_

She pulls him into an embrace, tender and fragile.

Maybe it's because his link with Kadaj is the strongest, because that one is his chosen vessel, but he feels it. Not as a sensation like with Loz, but as though he were there, as though it were in the flesh.

The tear that leaks from his left eye is Kadaj's.

 _That's what he tells himself, when he pushes his way out of his domain in a sudden rush._

* * *

The Remnants sit in the Forgotten City. Their plan is in motion, despite Big Brother being stolen away by the red shadow.

They're taking a moment to regroup before leaving for Edge with the Geostigma afflicted; their new siblings.

"Do you think Mother will be mad we couldn't hold onto Big Brother?" Loz asks in a quiet voice, checking his Velvet Nightmare.

Yazoo almost laughs. "Please, I can't imagine her being upset at anything."

Kadaj blinks and frowns.

"Brothers," he begins slowly. They look at him with undivided attention.

"What…does Mother look like, to you?"

There's a moment of silence, and then they answer at once, their responses melding before splitting.

"Brown hair."

"Brown eyes."

They look at each other sharply for a moment.

"Warm smile?" Loz hazards.

"Warm smile." Yazoo assents with a nod.

Loz begins his maintenance on Dual Hound with a pleased little grin.

Kadaj is still looking out over the blackened water.

Yazoo is watching him, but before he can say anything, Kadaj turns away and walks for his bike.

"We leave in five minutes."

* * *

She almost gets to speak to him. It's when the world is shaking, trembling with excitement, the black liquid spilling across the floor aggressively.

She sees him. He sees her.

There's only the space in the tunnel between them.

She cries as she trembles. He stares impassively.

"I'm sorry. Sephiroth, I'm so sorry! My so-"

Jenova screams, deafening him to her words. The woman holds her ears, hunching over in pain.

By the time she pushes herself to stand, black smoke and muck plumes and floods between them. It swirls and surges up, blotting them out from each other with a tremulous roar.

He thinks he might've heard her scream something about a baby.

It doesn't matter now.

 _None of it matters._

His wing unfurls, and he is one with his fragment.

* * *

He is displeased when his Remnants are destroyed. He retreats back to his tar-stained kingdom.

It takes only a second for him to hear the frantic cries, and a second longer to see it for himself.

She's sitting on her knees, dress pooled around her.

Yazoo and Loz are laid out before her. Kadaj is already long gone.

She's fighting to hold their hands, though their lifeless, still bodies are fading from the bottom up, dispersing into green Lifestream.

She's sobbing.

"No! No! Give them back! Give them back! Give me back my boys!"

When their hands slip through hers and dissipate in a burst of ash and green light, she screams, desperate and broken, curling over herself, head to the floor. She doesn't even realise she isn't alone.

"How many?!" she sobs. "How many will you take from me before you just LET ME DIE!?"

 _'All.'_

He hears Jenova hiss. She is speaking to the woman. _Jenova never speaks to others that aren't a part of him._

The lady screams, gut wrenching and deep.

His own words echo in his ears.

 _"Tell me what you cherish most. Give me the pleasure of taking it away."_ _  
_

There is no pleasure to be found here. This woman has already lost everything.

He leaves her.

* * *

He can feel the woman on the fringe of his perception. She does not move. Only recently has she stopped crying and wailing.

When he sees her next, she is curled on her side in a ball with darkness oozing around her. It never touches her though.

Her eyes are empty, stare unseeing.

* * *

He dips into the Lifestream, into the memories that float there. He never quite melds with the force, but it can't seem to completely deny him either.

He fishes for information.

What he finds is a memory, belonging to a soul lost to Meteorfall. He can taste the unique brand of fear that lingers on it.

Three girls, all in their mid-teens, are sitting on a stone wall, watching the sun set. It looks like they're at the beach in Junon. It's a lot less dirty.

 _"How many kids d'ya want, Luce?"_ asks the black-haired girl, the owner of the memory.

 _"I think two would be a good amount."_ says the blonde girl with them, before licking the ice-cream in her hand.

 _"I don't know, Mel."_ replies the brunette, swinging her legs over the edge of the wall. _"You know I wanna be a scientist, so I don't think it'd be a smart idea for me to have any kids."_

 _"You're always so boring, Luce!"_

The girl with the long, straight, chocolate-brown hair laughs. _"I know, I know! But...if I wasn't going to be a scientist...I think I'd have as many children as I could love!"_

* * *

She's still sitting there when he returns.

"How many kids d'ya want, Luce?" he asks, a perfect imitation of the dark-haired girls' voice.

" _One_." she whispers, voice broken and cracking. She tucks her head down. "I want...my baby boy. _But I would settle for the pieces._ "

* * *

 **Headcanon is that Kadaj called Aerith 'Mother' because he thought she was Lucrecia at first. The eyes were the wrong colour, but they had the same _look_.**

 **The Remnants did not stick around for long, though that might be because they were only alive for like...two weeks or so and this is a one-shot that I chopped into three bits for pacing's sake. I _severely_ like the idea of a more family-esque setting for Lucrecia and the trio, but _thiiiiis_...is not that. Maybe one day I'll play with the idea of something more wholesome and less saddening.  
**

 **In case it's not clear, I'm not doing the 'controlled by Jenova' thing for Sephiroth in this. It's a common trope (?) for their dynamic, but I've reached the conclusion that I don't believe that idea anymore. And honestly, I much prefer him acting on his own cruelty and hate than 'Jenova made me do it'. _That said I'm always a sucker for a redemption arc._  
**

 **Next up are events set in Dirge of Cerberus!**


	3. Aftermath

**Last chapter! Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you thought, it really makes my day!  
**

* * *

 **Song:** A Krishna - Claire de Lune ETHEREAL REMIX

* * *

She is gone. Jenova is spitting, seething and snarling. Not at the woman's absence, though.

He can feel it - the Planet is shrinking up underneath him, like the floor is being sucked away.

He dips into the Lifestream, and a wave of alarm grips him.

 _Where is it all?_

It's still there, but so faintly, _barely_ there.

Everything groans. Everything _shakes_.

 _'They're leaving! They're LEAVING!'_

Jenova shrieks in his ear. He doesn't understand, until he sees the trickle of Lifestream beneath him vanish entirely, as though sucked away down a drain. He feels the pull on him, too. But he can resist its feeble tug. It doesn't want him. Not _really_. He manually follows the momentum until he stops himself to observe.

The Lifestream is gathering, pulling in on itself to swirl and coalesce into one behemoth shape of light and life.

Jenova's screams become panicked.

He silences her wailing with a growl.

She is not his mother. He knows this - has known it for some time. She is a tool, a means to an end. Her voice speaks to him and him alone, and he uses her likeness to suit his needs. Where knowledge once made him vulnerable to her, it now makes her bend to his will. His iron, indomitable will.

The Planet is evacuating, he realises. The Lifestream is preparing to eject, to sail the cosmos as was his wish.

He feels disgruntled, almost. He doesn't even try to go along with the stream, even at this knowledge. Jenova whimpers and writhes, pleading him to _join them and fly_.

He does not care, and blots her out.

Before he can will himself back to the strange kingdom of tainted power, a thought occurs.

 _The woman_.

She is in that swirling monument, he is sure. She hasn't left before.

In that moment, he scowls.

He wills himself to join the Lifestream - though the energy bumps at him in a way that would have left enormous bruises on any physical form - to travel with its pull and follow its twisting currents to the looming shape ahead.

He plunges into the mass of energy and it feels like a waterfall meeting a river. Life swirls and writhes around him, both buzzing with excitement and screaming at his presence. He searches, sifting through the memories that brush against his will and leave traces of themselves.

 _She's not here._

He surges up, higher and higher into the beast.

And then he tastes it. A _stain_ , scraping against him like grainy sand. There is a stain in this otherwise crystal pure Lifestream, and for once it isn't his.

The higher he pushes, the coarser it gets. The darker the stream runs. Soon it is dirty and black, almost like Geostigma, but not _quite_. Less of an infection, and more of a darkness.

He spins suddenly. A disturbance rips past him, a bright shining blue light, weaving and twisting. The taint reacts at once to its presence, surging into action and streaking after the blue light. It climbs, higher and higher into the darkened abyss above, until it stops, black threads twisting and coiling around it.

Something trying to escape, perhaps. Or someone trying to interfere. He understands _that_.

He does not, however, understand the sudden brilliant light, beyond the shining blue thing.

And then, just as suddenly, he is blinded. When he comprehends once more, both lights are gone. To where, he cannot tell, but he knows they are gone from the mass of life. There is no sharp tang like the little blue one left behind, and no warmth of the second.

He hovers and waits, contemplating on whether or not to stay or go.

He stays.

* * *

When the light returns soon after its disappearance, he watches. The blue and white come apart from the once brilliant singular glow they had been. He watches though it burns his senses. The darkness twists and binds, lashing around the two, holding them down. It stifles the light enough for him to perceive.

 _There she is._

The stain rubs against him angrily as he ploughs through it, diving toward the woman whose form is of the second burst of light. Before she can be completely swathed in darkness, he lashes out, slashing the tendrils at the proverbial roots. The darkness retreats skittishly at his unexpected assault and he sweeps her up, extending his power to bubble her and only her.

 _The rest can go._

Even the Remnants; he knows the Lifestream stole them. Even Za-

He stops himself. Nothing good has ever come of that name, of that _boy_.

He takes the woman and leaves. The sound of his exit is a sharp screech of grinding metal as he forces out of the Lifestream's current.

* * *

The outline of her corner has been swallowed up by the black sludge by the time they return. She will have to make a new one, he decides, and releases her from his power.

His will reforms into the figure he knows himself as. He does prefer this way of existing, unless it's called for him to play 'Mother'. And then he is invisible, a force of crushing ruin, a pressure on the lungs of those he manipulates and a flicker of green cat's eyes.

He turns to go. She is returned to her rightful place, and there she will stay. Even if the rest of the Planet will not.

"Sephiroth...?"

He stops and listens. She's already stirring.

He dissolves into the black tar around them, watching her from all around, hiding in plain sight.

Her waking is slow, but when she sees her surroundings, she sits up and leans on one hand.

"Sephiroth, are you..."

The words trail off as she looks around and the life in her eyes fades again, her head dipping down.

"...You're hiding from me." she states. "You don't even _know me_ and you're-"

A sob chokes her, and she covers her mouth. It never makes it past her lips. She swallows it down, and tears are restrained.

"Sephiroth, I know you're here. I can feel you. Please...tell me why you pulled me from that place."

At once, his voice is all around her, rising from the black muck that seems to ooze perpetually over itself. She shakes.

"You don't belong there."

"I see. My sins...cannot be forgiven." she mumbles, lowering her head in resignation.

"You are not so important." he scoffs. She flinches, but does not protest.

"You have been touched by her."

Lucrecia thinks she might just scream if he continues talking about Jenova. She definitely will if he calls it his 'Mother'.

"I am her Chosen. As such, everything that was hers is _mine_."

His voice is prideful, and then spiteful.

"The puppets have already been claimed by that _wretched woman_."

Lucrecia looks up, not at any one particular place. She stands.

"They're planning to leave. If Omega leaves and takes the Lifestream with it, the Planet will die."

"That was inevitable." he responds blandly.

"And you along with it?"

" _That_ won't happen." he almost chuckles.

"Tell me, woman," he asks, voice converging on a point on the muck behind her.

There's a faint sucking noise. She doesn't turn around. _She doesn't want to see him rise from that, like she knows he must._

"Do you know _why_ I was created?" His voice is hollow and echoing, speaking over the slurping as it fades.

She shakes her head.

 _'Liar!'_ Jenova hisses.

' _Shut up!'_ Lucrecia mentally snarls back.

"Jenova herself speaks to you. You must know each other _quite_ intimately."

Sephiroth's voice is whole and complete now. She still cannot turn to face him, even as she feels him nearing, knows that turning her back to him is dangerous, knows that even without Jenova stating the obvious, _he knows she's lying._

His footsteps click - an artificial noise, and she wonders how long he must've heard the sound of his own boots on the tiled floors of the Shin-Ra building to recreate it so flawlessly, because it's so _real_.

A chill sweeps over her right shoulder at the same time he does. He's not looking at her until he has surpassed her and turned about-face.

"The reason _why_ I was created," He speaks again and this time he's staring right at her, hawk-eyed and fixated. "Was because a fool thought Jenova was a Cetra."

Her face creases into a grimace despite her best efforts. Gast wasn't a fool so much as _horribly_ misinformed.

"Shin-Ra tried to artificially recreate Ancients from its DNA." He purrs, but it's low and dangerous and _he knows_ -

"I was _created_ to find the Promised Land." His tone lifts, light as air, lilting and pleasant.

Lucrecia finally looks at him. There's pain in her eyes and a horrendous throbbing ache in her soul. _He knows, he knows, he HAS TO KNOW._

He's smiling. It's cruel and thin _and oh so not normal_ , but he's smiling and she's never seen him with anything but cold indifference or seething rage so she hangs onto it desperately.

His face falls flat once more.

" _Let the vermin leave._ Let them take the stench of Cetra and human filth with them. I will forge my own Lifestream. Those they have abandoned will be mine, and I will make the rest of this miserable _speck_ _ **mine**_ _._ "

He take half a step closer, dangerous, leaning on the leg he's extended. He's sizing her up, cutting her down, leering through her sad excuses to peel away the truth, and she doesn't think that's even his goal.

"This world is **mine**. Its people are **mine**."

Each sentence is punctuated by a step towards her and he prowls like a stalking cat, like a mo- _She burns the word from her mind before the rest of the letters can follow._

By the time her mind is focused on him completely once more, he's already there, a hand around her throat and eyes boring down into her soul.

" _You_ are **mine**." He's snarling and angry and she feels the tears in her eyes because _it's worse than when she saw his face in the fires._

"You have been touched by her. Everything and every _one_ who was hers is **mine**."

Lucrecia wheezes as the pressure around her neck tightens. But she will not protest. _She deserves it._

"So," his voice is suddenly pleasant, though his grip is still that of death, "No matter where you run, no matter what runnel of this life- _stained pit_ of a Planet you hide in, I will _drag you back_."

His face twists again as he hisses, dragging her closer to loom furiously. His eyes are so thin and pale green, his brows so _tense_.

"I won't leave."

Her whisper gives him pause, and the look drains from his face, replaced by a terrifyingly bored one.

Lucrecia gasps, his fingers tightening further around her neck.

"What if I bruise you? _Break you._ "

"I...won't leave!" she gasps

Her body hits the ground, and instinctively she sucks in air. It's rancid and reminds her of the disgusting taste she could never get out of her mouth almost thirty years ago.

Sephiroth's stare is unrepentant and unforgiving of her unseemly actions.

"What if I ignore you completely?"

Lucrecia forces herself to speak through an almost-crushed windpipe.

"I won't leave."

She shudders, a puff of air bursting from her lips as cold agony slides into her gut.

There's a sword in her liver. A long, perfect, slim silver sword. It catches her completely off guard. The Remnants never had weapons.

 _He would never allow them._

She shivers and fights not to curl in on herself.

"I-I won't leave!" she pushes, answering the unspoken question.

The sword slides out, and she presses her hand to the wound on instinct once again.

"What if I am disgusted by your very existence?"

His voice is smooth, calm as he crouches in front of her, hunched over his knees. Masamune is already dissolving in a rush of green smoke. Tears are burning in her eyes. Words are shaking in her mouth, dressed in blood.

"I won't leave!"

He reaches out a hand and runs his thumb along her lip. His glove is stained by blood and for a moment it captures his attention. Glimmering viper green eyes slide to her plain brown ones.

"And what if _I_ leave? What if I abandon you to this wretched world?"

The droplets that fall from her eyes are ones he's seen many times, from both her and others. But the expression of pain on her face is one far greater, even than when he had stabbed her.

"Then...I will truly die."

When he leans forward and holds the side of her head in his hand, she suspects it might be to yank her hair or snap her neck. She's not scared of it. No, she feels it's a long time coming. She always thought Kadaj was so light in his temper tantrums, still a child in essence.

But when her son _oh what has happened he's barely a man anymore_ leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, the shaking that wracks her body stops.

"Good."

He whispers very softly, very calmly, and with almost a smile.

Pain vanishes from her body. Blood evaporates from her lips and from her middle. Her wound is gone.

The tears have not stopped by the time he sits back on the balls of his feet and tilts his head to watch her. There's a different look on his face, one that settles unnaturally, like a new pair of shoes, or an old t-shirt that's a size too small.

Lucrecia might be tempted to call it content.

He gets up, smoothly and with grace. He turns his back to her and walks. His gait is leisurely and effortless.

Lucrecia pulls herself upright and struggles after him. The trailing white robes of her skirt are nearly sucked under by bulging black tar until it shies away from the garments and waits for her to pass.

Her footsteps have no sound, make no click, but they echo his all the same.

He doesn't look behind to see her, to know she is following him, in-step but not daring to match stride. She knows better than to walk at his side. She is _not_ his equal.

The hollow, twisting knot of anger, hate and apathy in his chest relaxes - just a tiny bit - for the first time in years.

* * *

"Do you miss them?"

Lucrecia turns her gaze down at the face of the man whose head sits in her lap. He's staring up at her. His eyes are calm and curious.

She tilts her head slightly, asking for elaboration.

"The puppets."

She lifts her eyes up, tipping her head the other way in thought.

"In a way." Lies have never gone over well with her dear, mad son. She's learned this over the time they've spent together in his black realm.

"Do you want more?"

She looks down at him sharply, eyes wide, startled by the question.

The answer is easy.

"No. I never wanted _more_."

She smiles, warmth spreading through her heart as she strokes his hair. He lets her.

"I just wanted you."

"Then...why do you miss _them_?"

There's a hint of jealousy in his tone.

She continues to lovingly stroke his hair.

"How could I not? They were facets of you, and for so long...they were the closest I ever got."

 _I've spent enough time missing you._

"Perhaps with time, they could have become more. They seemed to have the potential for individual growth." She says it as a concession, that she misses what _might_ have been.

Sephiroth frowns delicately at that.

"Better the Cetra witch take them, then."

He knows how unreliable it is to have an _almost_ clone of himself with enough personality to be individual.

He doesn't realise his hand is curled into a fist until she settles hers over it.

She doesn't tell him to stop thinking of the blonde not-really-SOLDIER who's thwarted him three times now. She knows that hate will cling forever, even when the man himself dies. She doesn't try to scrub it clean or tell him to 'be better than that'.

She understands. She accepts. And she loves him, with all her _pitiable_ human heart.

 _'Ah,'_ he thinks, closing his eyes and relaxing against her, feeling her thumb run soothingly up and down his, even through the gloves, though really it's all so much like his own skin at this point, _'the truth of a mother's love is something beautiful indeed.'_

* * *

 **It done!**

 **This is really not my 'preferred' way of having Lucrecia and Sephiroth reunite, but everything else is heavily AU. This is probably the most realistic canon-compliant idea I've come up with. I also saw it as a chance to maybe have my own take on how Sephiroth would've seen the whole Omega/Deepground thing in DoC while he's presumably still floating around at the time. I can just jokingly see him sipping tea and looking at it all happening like 'You're leaving? Oh no. However will I cope.' *Goes back to reading his paper*  
**

 **Hopefully it's clear that there's been a decent period of time between their DoC events and the last part, time for them to be comfortable around each other.**

 **Aaaand I have no idea about that last line. It just popped out and I left it in cause I couldn't think of anything else to end it on.** **I like to think of it as he's a little bit more a peace with his actual mum taking care of him, and that he enjoys it.**


End file.
